What will kill us first
by jkkitty1
Summary: Mycroft insists on being involved with Sherlock's case. Nothing goes as planned.


Opening the outside door, John heard the Holmes brothers verbally sparring. Since their relationship had changed to lovers when they were alone it was seldom that fighting was heard except when it came to Sherlock's cases.

"Absolutely not!" Sherlock yelled.

"This isn't up for discussion. We either work it together, or you're not involved. Make up your mind, brother dear." Mycroft's normally calm voice raised in frustration.

John continued up the stairs and passed the two men who ignored him.

"I don't need your permission, brother dear," the last two words Sherlock spat dipping in sarcasm. "You can't stop me from looking into it on my own."

Raising one eyebrow, Mycroft switched to his British Government voice. "You know better than that, Sherlock."

Suddenly the detective turned toward John and demanded. "Tell my brother that I will not work with him on this case."

Faced with both men staring at him, John shrugged. "I don't even know why you two are arguing. Care to enlighten me?"

"There is a group of influential aristocrats who have been buying artwork that they're requesting a person to obtain for them. They are aware that the person is stealing this artwork, and the buyers are keeping the art under lock and key once it is delivered to them. I discovered the situation when looking into something else, and it needs to be stopped. Because of who was involved, I went to Mycroft with my findings. Now he is trying to horn in on my case and accompany me while I work. Can you believe the nerve of him?" Sherlock's pouting sliced through his anger.

"Mycroft?" John directed at the older brother.

"Why do you care what he has to say? You're my friend, not his." Sherlock started sulking.

"I know you, Sherlock. I just would like to hear why Mycroft feels it's important that he's with you during the investigation. As you have frequently said, he doesn't do the legwork."

"Thank you, John," Mycroft was interrupted by Sherlock's rude hmmm. "The people he'll be involved with are some of the richest and most influential in our country. I'd prefer to prevent an internal war because of his mouth. Besides if I'm honest, I'd like to be my brother's partner in more than just the bedroom once in a while. I know you have a conference you'll be attending for a week starting tomorrow, so thought this would be an excellent time to take your place in this situation as you won't be there to reel in him and his mouth."

"I do have to admit Mycroft has a valid point," John informed Sherlock.

Whining "Jawnnnn, how can you say that? I'm trying. Besides he's bossy and will try to force me to do it his way."

Sitting down with his tea, John smiled at him. "Maybe his way will allow you to complete a case without a visit to A&E or me sewing you up."

Stomping his foot like a two-year-old, he glared at Mycroft. "Fine but I'm not sleeping with you during the case."

"I can live with that."

Then with an evil grin, Sherlock continued, "We're not sleeping or eating until the situation is resolved. Besides, you can stand to lose some weight."

"Any other rules you would like to tell me that I already know?" A smirking Mycroft asked.

"No, I'll let you know when I have anything."

"Sherlock!" John and Mycroft yelled. "That's not working together and you know it," John continued.

"Oh alright. However, I'm not waiting for you so you need to keep up. " Sherlock ordered as he headed for his bedroom to continue dressing.

"How do you put up with him as a partner?" Mycroft asked John.

"Wait, he's just getting started." John snapped his newspaper blocking out the brothers," You haven't seen anything yet."

With John at his conference and the brother bickering constantly, Mrs. Hudson was being driven crazy. The boys were bickering over eating vs not eating, sleeping vs staying awake. Then they squabbled about whether the information was messy and unorganized vs neatly written out and organized. At the end of her rope, the landlady appeared at the door, tea and biscuits in hand ordering, "Sit down and shut up."

Both men looked at her no-nonsense glare before they sat looking guilt-ridden.

"What is wrong with you two? This is not how I expect brothers to act. Now eat something and then you're going to rest before you both fall over from exhaustion."

"He started it," Sherlock whispered.

"Did not," Mycroft muttered back.

"Enough," Mrs. Hudson commanded. When both men were silent, she handed them each a cup of tea and plate with biscuits that they ate quietly. "Mycroft, this is how Sherlock always work. Pieces of paper and strings to connect ideas. Sherlock, your brother is organized and perhaps his way can help clear up some of your ideas. Now I expect each of you to sleep a few hours and come back rested and more agreeable."

Together they said, "Yes, Mrs. Hudson."

Mycroft and a sulking Sherlock arrived at the first interview. "Really little brother, your sulking is getting on my nerves."

"I wanted to take a taxi not one of your recognizable government cars. I try to be unobservable not from the government."

"Why be inconvenient when we can go comfortably. Now stop scowling before we meet with Lady and Lord Marlow and please remember they are very influential besides being the Queen's cousin twice removed."

"Don't tell me how to interview a suspect, I'm conducted many before. Besides if the Queen didn't want us to solve this issue, which she asked us to do so personally according to you, then she shouldn't have requested us to do it knowing many of those she knows might be involved. And I'm not scowling."

"That might be true but that doesn't mean we need to be rude and ill-mannered toward them at this stage."

Without another word, Sherlock exited the car slamming the door. Without waiting for Mycroft, he rang the bell. Grabbing his umbrella, the Iceman joined him ready to interrogate the Lord and Lady Marlow while keeping his brother in check.

The Butler led the two into the greeting room where the Lord and Lady were waiting. "Your Ladyship and Lordship, thank you for your valuable time," Mycroft greeted them hearing his brother snort behind him.

"Mr. Holmes, we're thrilled to have two distinguished gentlemen in our home. Please take a seat and tell us to what do we have the honor of your presence especially so soon after Mr. Holmes the younger visited us a few weeks ago on a private matter," Her Ladyship said. It was well known that she was the more dominant partner in their relationship.

"Really do we need to play….." Sherlock began but was interrupted by Mycroft's "Sherlock!"

Pulling his coat tighter, he glared at Mycroft before slouching down in the chair but said nothing else.

"I'm sorry for my brother, He does tend to get impatient when he wants a confirmation of information." Mycroft's strong strict voice made it plain he also was looking for information.

"No offense was taken, what would you like to know?" His Lordship asked.

A nod from Mycroft with a warning look had Sherlock sat up straight. "When I was last here I notice John Feary's 'A View of a Storm breaking from the Surrey side of Westminster Bridge' while we were in your private rooms. Then right after seeing it, I heard of the theft of the same painting. Perhaps you could tell us where you were able to acquire," the disdain in his voice was clear "the painting?" A poke in the side from Mycroft stopped him from saying anything further.

Lady Marlow gave a nervous laugh, "Oh, you noticed that painting. I'm a little embarrassed to admit it's a copy. I love the original so much that I had my husband found someone who was talented enough to reproduce it."

Before Sherlock could spit out his deducting about the painting and their involvement in the acquisition of it, Mycroft spoke. "If you don't mind, perhaps my brother could have a closer look at it, he has a well-known expertise in this area."

His Lord and Ladyship exchanged glances before agreeing reluctantly. Leading the way to the picture, the brothers fell behind a few step, "Don't verify it as the original." Mycroft whispered, "We'll give them a chance to contact their thief and others who have acquired theirs the same way."

Sherlock looked fiercely at his brother but agreed as they entered the couple's private rooms. Sherlock passed them pulling out his magnifying glass and began examining the picture closely without a word. "Thank you. I apologize for the misunderstanding. Your artist is very talented." Sherlock told them after taking his time looking it over as he took his leave going toward the front door.

"I apologize for my brother, he tends to forget his manners. I appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to speak to us."

"We'd discovered his idiosyncrasies when he helped us with our problem a few months ago and take no offense. Actually, it was kind of him to compliment the artist, we'll pass it on."

With a small nod of his head and thank you, Mycroft headed after his brother.

In the car, Mycroft could feel the anger coming off his brother. Attempting to take Sherlock's hand, he pulled it back. "Sherlock?"

"That's not how I handle suspects and because of it there have been lost opportunities to discover information."

"You were beginning to be rude with your unacceptable behavior."

"That how I work and if you don't accept it, you can do all the work yourself." With that, he turned toward the window ignoring his brother.

Soon they arrived at the second house. This time Mycroft exited the car first going around to open Sherlock's door.

"Sherlock, we've arrived."

"Thank you for the information. It seems you feel I need you to inform me of even this." With anger, he left the car and quickly moved up the stairs waiting for Mycroft to ring the bell.

They were surprised as they were led into the private rooms of Duke and Duchess Abney which was highly unusual.

"Viscount Holmes how nice to see you again. And this must be your brother Sherlock. I have to say I enjoy Dr. Watson's journal of your adventures." Duke Abney greet the brothers.

"Sherlock, this is Their Graces the Duke and Duchess Abney. Your Graces, this is my brother and consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes."

"It's wonderful to finally meet the man behind the legend, Mr. Holmes. Perhaps you'll like some tea." Both men declined so the Duke continued. "And I understand you have refused a knighthood a number of times I can tell you, my cousin Winnie was very put out with you last time you declined her offer." The Duchess told him. Sherlock nodded in understanding but didn't address the issue, instead he looked around until he saw Thomas Gainsborough's River Landscape.

"I see you admire our Gainsborough. The artist my husband found did copies of a number of originals for some of our friends. I believe you already talked to the Marlow's about their Feary. Go ahead Mr. Holmes and examine our painting to put your mind at ease that it is a copy."

Still saying nothing, Sherlock accepted their invitation and did just that. Able to reassure himself that it was the original, he nodded to Mycroft.

"I really must meet this artist you have found," Mycroft broke the silence. "I have a few favorites I would love copied. We thank you for your time, Your Graces."

Once they reached the car, Mycroft voiced his frustration after the divider was raised. "You were more than rude this time, you were offensive. They are royalty and should be treated as such. We are meant to work together on this. I wanted to work with my brother and lover." He took Sherlock's hand bringing his fingers to his lips. "I want to watch you work but because of who these people are you must at least pretend to be polite."

Sherlock pulled his hand back, "You pushed your way into my investigation then tell me how to act and talk toward criminals. I don't care what their background is, they are crooks. Perhaps you should just do it all yourself."

"That's not fair. We need to step lightly around them until we have proof. As soon as one or more of them make a move so we can connect them with the robberies, we can apprehend them. Please understand, I'm trying to protect you from their ire."

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders but allowed Mycroft to take his hand again.

At the next five houses, everyone was very cooperative but it was obvious that they had been forewarned of the Holmes brother visits. They found the stolen paintings that they were told were painted for them hanging in their private rooms.

After the seventh visit Sherlock's network, who he had sent to observe and report on the previous suspects, reported that each had gone to the same address which was a low-level art dealer.

Due to the sensitive nature of the investigation, Mycroft insisted that they confer with The Queen. Sherlock attempted to bow out of the meeting but when Mycroft asked for an appointment with her, she insisted that Sherlock be present.

On the way, Mycroft tried to remind Sherlock on his behavior. "No deducting, no sassing and proper etiquette please."

"I know how to behave in the palace," he complained biting out, "dear brother."

"Yes, I remember your last visit and the sheet you arrived in. Now behave in there." Mycroft ordered.

Sherlock huffed and ignored Mycroft until they arrived at the palace.

A guardsman led them to the Queen's meeting room and announced them. "Your Majesty, Viscount Mycroft Holmes, and Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

Both men nodded to her, "Your Majesty." She offered them her hand, which they kissed.

"Sit and have some tea," she said. Mycroft poured the three cups offering them to the other two.

"Mycroft, how nice to see you again, and I see you convinced your brother to join us even managing to dress this time," a little scolding in her voice. Mycroft smiled while Sherlock hung his head.

The Queen padded the seat beside her. "Come sit by me, Sherlock. It's been a long time since you visited me." Once he sat, she became serious. "I assume the news isn't good, Mycroft."

"I'm afraid not Madam. Sherlock has confirmed that the seven pictures we have examined are not forgeries but the originals that were stolen."

"Sherlock, you're sure they are aware of the origin of the paintings?" She asked.

"I sure. The pictures are in their private rooms, no announcement has been made of their purchase as per norm, and after our visits, my people followed them to the same well-known art dealer."

"Oh yes, your homeless network A largely underused source," she rose signaling for the men to remain sitting. "A very troubling situation as three of those interviewed are related to me. The others are frequently in attendance at palace functions. I'm sure the newspapers would love to sell more papers with this scandal. Do you believe there are more involved, Sherlock?"

"We would have to examine the dealer's records to be sure, but there has been other artwork stolen lately, Madam."

"Suggesting a little breaking and entering Sherlock. I assume you still carry your lock picks around." The Queen said with a smile.

"Part of the things I need in my business," Sherlock admitted.

She waved his comment away,"Do what you need to do to break up this ring and report to me. This dishonor has to be contained privately, but I assure you those involved will not escape punishment."

The interview over both men stood, nodded and turned to leave. She called out, "And Sherlock next time you will accept my offer."

"I take it under advisement, Madam."

"Sherlock!," whispered an exasperated Mycroft.

The Queen laughed, "Now that's the Sherlock I know. Not the polite one who sat here a few minutes ago. Good luck gentlemen." Her laughter followed them out.

Waiting for dark, the brothers were huddled behind a garbage bin.

"Really Sherlock, this is disgusting."

"You didn't have to come. I could've retrieved the information myself without your help."

"Not without backup," Mycroft insisted.

"John's decided not to stay at the conference and has returned so he could have come," Sherlock claimed.

"Dr. Watson had to work today, a fact you well aware of. You needed backup, and I'm it for now."

"I'm not," Sherlock began but was shut-up with a kiss. Soon Sherlock took over deepening it until he remembers where they were.

Breaking the kiss, Sherlock complained. "I'm working, and I told you no sex or anything else until we're done."

"Admit it. You enjoyed the kiss," Mycroft smirked.

Sherlock refused to answer and turned to watch the door.

A few minutes later the dealer left the darkened gallery clearing the way for them to enter the building.

"We need to notify Lestrade we're going in," Mycroft reminded Sherlock.

"You sound like John, an old mother hen. We don't need a backup for a simple break in." Sherlock claimed beginning to pick the lock. Once the door was open, Sherlock said "It a pretty complicated lock for this type of gallery. Wonder what he keeps here?"

"Guess we should find out." Mycroft joined in the teasing.

The men slipped into the gallery, a small lantern covered by Sherlock's hand, the only light to guide them. Once they entered the office and closed the door, Sherlock removed his hand allowing the lantern to light the room.

Examining the room, Mycroft moved a picture. "The safe's here." Within a few minutes, he had it open and began to go through the papers until he found the dealer's record book. "I believe this is what we need as it's the only think coded in the book."

Sherlock had turned on the copy machine and took the book copying the pages.

"We'll decode it later. Let's get out of here before someone comes," Mycroft directed.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and closed the book handing it back to his brother and turning off the machine.

As Mycroft closed the safe, Sherlock noticed a small beam of light was blocked by the closing door. "Out now Mycroft, we just set off an alarm."

The two ran to the door as Sherlock folded the papers slipping them into his pocket. As they reached the door, it was wrenched out of Sherlock's hand revealing three beefy musclebound men with thick sticks. Turning around, he saw that behind his brother were three more similar men. Unable to get past either group, Sherlock faked falling hiding the information in-between a stack of painting just before they were surrounded.

Raising their hands, the brothers were thrown into a car with a hood placed over their heads that weren't removed until they were taken into an old lumber factory and forced to sit. After being tied to the chairs, a man walked around them, a wicked smile on his face as he leaned into Sherlock's.

"Ye hae sumfink I want. One of ye r gonna to tell me where ye hide it."

"I don't think so. And if you must be so close, may I suggest you try some mouthwash. It does wonders for those around you," Sherlock informed the man.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft voice was scolding as a slap was heard.

"Well, it does. He's not breathing into your face."

"Take the younger one first. Perhaps his blud will tell us if he hears the others one's screams of gyp. " The one who seemed to be charge angrily ordered. "Maybe it will shut him up."

The man cracked his knuckles. "Me gonna hammer ya 'olmes." He moved toward the detective a malicious grin showing his rotting teeth.

Mycroft went to speak but a shake of his brother's head stopped him. Silently communicating that Sherlock had the material they wanted so it wasn't worth Mycroft being beaten for something he doesn't even know where it was.

As the man came closer to Sherlock and his putrid breath could be smelt, the detective said, "Do you ever brush those teeth? I'm sure you'd be able to find a lady to take care of your dick instead of your hand"

Mycroft moaned, "Sherlock," as the torturer placed his fist into Sherlock's nose followed quickly by multiple other blows. Not wanting his brother to hear his pain Sherlock bit his tongue to keep from yelling out. Unexpectedly a piece of lumber was in the man's hands bringing it down sharping toward Sherlock's leg. The sounds of a bone breaking were followed by a scream of pain as Sherlock passed out.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft screamed. "You bastard. You broke his leg."

"And yeh r next. We will c 'ow long yeh can be silent whilst I graft yeh over unless yeh tell me where yeh 'id it or does ye want to scream too?" The leader who had been leaning against the door frame came over to pressure him into speaking.

Although a clever liar, even if Mycroft told the truth he wouldn't be believed. So instead of speaking, he gave his ice glare at the man.

Shrugging his shoulders, the leader moved back to the door nodding to his men to start on Mycroft.

The beating was brutally similar to his brother's. Sherlock had returned to consciousness but knew he couldn't share the information they were asking for as too many people had their lives upset by them already. His eyes pleaded with his older brother to tell him what to do.

The door opened and fast footsteps could be heard as the torturer swung the board at Mycroft's shoulder breaking it and continued up clipping him in the head.

"Me finded it, sir. Them 'id it in plain sight." A man was waving the packet Sherlock had hidden.

The leader looked it over as the brothers silently tried to find a way out of the situation they were in. If the man had the information, their deaths weren't far behind. After struggling as keep from screaming in pain from their injuries, their eyes met to admit defeat. A silent goodbye was said.

Although surprised when they were pulled up and dragged across the floor, they were unable to fight due to the damage. A door was yanked open, and they were thrown into a walk in freezer.

"Bye gents. Me always wondered what would kill someone caught in 'ere, Freezing or suffocation. Mes sure yeh answer me question." The brothers could hear a number of different laughter as the door was slammed.

They huddled in each other's arms for warmth and comfort. "I'm sorry I was so mean about you helping me," Sherlock whispered leaning on Mycroft's good shoulder.

"And I'm sorry I made it harder on you." Mycroft rubbed his brother's back.

"I love you," they said together leaning back on the cold wall.

Sherlock was silent for a bit when Mycroft noticed. "What are you thinking about?"

"I would say the two of us equal about 190 cms and 130 kg. This freezer is about 1.5 cubic meters, would you agree?"

"Yes, but why do you want to know that?"

"Really brother, aren't you interested in that man's question. Which will kill us first suffocation or freezing?"

"Sherlock, did you get hit in the head? What are you even thinking about that for? Of course not, besides it looks like we'll find out." Mycroft tried to get more comfortable but the pain in his shoulder prevented it.

"I like to know things. Consumption of oxygen is around 20 ml/kg/min and the amount of oxygen in the air is around 21%. So 1.5 cubic meter converted to liters is 300 liters. If you consider that we are about 130 kgs together and we use about 20ml per kg per minute, we have 115 minutes to live." (In case you want to know how he figured it out 300000ml/20ml =15000ml/130kg=115.3 minutes)."

"Really Sherlock I didn't need to know that. Must you be so fascinated with death especially when it's ours?"

"But Mycie, it what I do. Oh, I forgot something, The colder you get, the slower your respiration gets, so the oxygen lasts longer but then the C02 buildup is going to increase from 7% to 10% cause dizziness, headache, visual and hearing dysfunction, and unconsciousness within a few minutes to an hour. So I don't think we'll freeze to death, just fall asleep and not wake up."

"Shut up Sherlock! I can think of other things we could be doing in our last 115 minutes than figure out what's going to kill us."

"And what would that be?"

Mycroft leaned down to his lips kissing him.

"You know you're using up our minutes faster this way, don't you?" Sherlock reminded him as they parted each gasping for breath.

"Shut it! I would prefer this way to go than waiting."

With a wicked grin, Sherlock dived back onto Mycroft's lips. As their time slipped away they continued to give each other comfort until they could no longer awake.

Kissing one last time and mouthing 'I love you', they became unconscious from lack of air. Neither heard the shouts of concern as the door was blown open and John, Greg, Mycroft's men and the police rushed in.

Waking both in confusion and in pain, Sherlock kept his eyes closed tried to figure out what had happened. The antiseptic smell, beeping machines, and stiff feel of the sheets suggested a hospital. Shooting up in bed, he remembers as he yelled, "Mycie!" before grabbing at his casted leg.

John placed his hand on Sherlock's shoulder gently pressing him back down, "Lay back down before you tear your stitches and re-break that leg."

"Where's my brother? Is he," Sherlock swallowed hard, "dead?"

"He's in the bed next to you but hasn't woke up yet. The doctor was in and said he'll be alright."

Sherlock struggled against John's hands trying to get out of bed to Mycroft.

"Stay in bed," Captain Watson's voice thundered out.

As normal when that voice gave an order, the detective did as ordered.

"If you promise to stay in bed, I'll move the two beds together so you can hold your brother's hand."

Quickly agreeing, John moved the bed. When he was close enough, Sherlock grabbed his brother's wrist and felt his slow but steady pulse. He relaxed knowing that Mycroft was alive.

"Why is he still not awake?"

"There's a large lump on his head so a concussion plus anesthetic from surgery on his broken collar bone. He should be waking up anytime now." John explained.

Sherlock sighed, "As much as I want to be here next to him, someone could see us and Mycroft could be ruined."

"Anthea already took care of that. This is a government's hospital so no one will be able to enter without clearance. Those who are allowed have been informed that you blame yourself for what happened to your brother. As your doctor. I feel it will help your recovery to be close to him."

"Thank you, John." Sherlock feeling of gratitude overwhelming him.

"It may have taken me a while to see how much you need each other, but now I'll do anything to see both of you happy. Now push your pain button and rest. I'll wake you if Mycroft comes around."

A few hours later, Sherlock felt his hand being squeezed. Opening his eyes he saw his brother smiling at him.

"John said we'll both be okay," Mycroft said.

"He is my doctor, so I trust his word. How's your shoulder? Is the pain controlled?"

"Don't worry brother dear, I'll be able to be able to make you feel good," at this Mycroft wiggled his eyebrows, "In a few weeks. And your pain? Is it controlled?"

A blushing Sherlock shrugged. "Because of my history, they can give me just non-narcotic drugs, but I can handle it."

John entered the room and smiled. "You're both awake now. How are you feeling?"

The glare he received from each man answered his question. "Well, it will take a while before the two of you can take on the world again. You'll find that your recovery will be quicker if you follow directions. However, I doubt you'll take my advice."

The grin he received from the brothers confirmed his statement. "At least promise me you'll try."

"Yes John," Sherlock said.

"I'll attempt to follow your advice, Dr. Watson." Mycroft partially agreed.

"I sure that the most I can ask." John acknowledged their partial agreement.

"What's that?" Mycroft asked as he looked around the room and spotted a large assortment of fruit, cheese, and sausages that could possibly feed a dozen people at least.

"It was there when I returned from a walk. There's a card. Would you like to see it?" John offered it to Mycroft.

Looking it over, Mycroft started to laugh but stopped grabbing his shoulder. He handed it to John who also read it over and laughed.

"What?" Sherlock demanded.

John handed Sherlock the note.

'Dear Mycroft and Sherlock,

I'm sincerely sorry to hear you were injured while addressing my assignment. Your confidential services are greatly appreciated. I hope this basket of snacks will help your recovery.

Mycroft, as you have already received a knighthood and Sherlock, will not accept one in person, I have taken this opportunity to award him in abstention.

My royal house appreciates your services to Queen and Country.

Sincerely,

Elizabeth R'

"She can't do that," Sherlock complained. "I didn't accept it."

"She can and did, little brother." Mycroft smiles at his pouting brother. "She is The Queen, after all."

Any further comments were cut short as the doctors came in to check on their patients.

John sat beside Sherlock with his newspaper as the two patients underwent examinations from the doctors, taking their medications, and even eating lunch. He glanced up to see both of the yawning and rubbing their eyes. "I believe you two need to get some rest now. I'll keep the staff away so you can get some sleep."

It was a surprise when both men burrowed under their covers. As John went to inform the staff to let the two of them rest, he said. "I'll be right back, Sir Mycroft and Sir Sherlock."

Sherlock called out before John reached the door.

"John," Sherlock said as his eyes were closing, "You were wrong. His way did keep me from the A&E but actually put me in the hospital."

John laughed, leaving the room and the sleeping men.


End file.
